


Eberron: Encounters in Hostile Territory

by CountDorku



Series: After the War [2]
Category: Eberron, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dungeons & Dragons, Catra (She-Ra) Has Magic, Gen, Redemption, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountDorku/pseuds/CountDorku
Summary: Adora meets her girlfriend's mother, and has to explain how she and Glimmer met.Meanwhile, Catra discovers something about herself that she hadn't expected.
Relationships: Adora & Angella (She-Ra), Adora & Bow & Glimmer (She-Ra), Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora & Mermista (She-Ra), Adora/Glimmer (She-Ra), Angella & Glimmer (She-Ra), Catra & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Series: After the War [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990891
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	Eberron: Encounters in Hostile Territory

_Thaliost, Eastern Quarter_

“We don’t like Aundairians around these parts,” said the drunk, in a Thranic accent. “Tryin’ to kill the Cardinal! Flame curse you!”

Adora laid a steadying hand on Glimmer’s shoulder, but it didn’t accomplish much, because Glimmer immediately fired back with, “This is Thaliost, idiot. It _is_ Aundair!”

“Glimmer, it’s not worth it,” said Adora urgently.

“Don’t like Karrns much either,” rumbled one of the drunk’s friends. “Not after Shadukar.”

Glimmer drew herself up to her admittedly underwhelming true height and snapped, “Does she _look_ like she was at Shadukar, jackass? You think she’s really old enough to have been there?”

Adora’s combat instincts came to life. These guys were definitely not sober enough to be bringing all their ability to bear, so they probably wouldn’t be too skilled, but there were at least six of them, so they didn’t need to be _too_ good to at least pose a bit of a threat to Adora and Glimmer. Bow, Perfuma and Mermista were a street or two over, and while they’d no doubt come running if they heard a fight, they couldn’t very well teleport there. Then there was the legal issue; there could be some real ugly consequences if any of them ended up dead in the street –

“Hold.”

The voice had a detectable Aereni accent, meaning the newcomer was definitely an elf. She was hooded and cloaked, so Adora couldn’t even hazard a guess as to her cause: was she Tairnadal, or did she hail from one of the Aereni cities?

“This is none of your business, elf. This is for the Pure Flame and Tira Miron; go back to your corpses.”

“The enemies of your Flame are the children of Khyber, you fool, not your foes of the moment in a dead war. Tira Miron would never stand for this.”

“What would you know about it, Aereni-”

The newcomer looked directly through him. Something about the newcomer’s gaze must have hit the drunk like a hammer, because he visibly stepped backwards.

“I would know more than you do of Tira Miron, human. _I fought by her side._ ”

The hood was thrown back, and the newcomer’s face was revealed. She was beautiful, in the ageless way that elves tended to be; her skin was dark, her hair was long and flowing, and her eyes glowed a soft purple.

“Begone, fool,” she ordered, in a voice so commanding that Adora had to fight the urge to salute. A wind seemed to swell around her, whipping her cloak and her hair dramatically. “I was present at the birth of your faith; I have seen nations rise and fall. Your petty hostilities are as dust before the wind. I am Anjhaela Vandraeath of Shae Mordai, and my name is spoken in the oldest of your hymns.”

As the drunks decided, seemingly as one, that they had an urgent appointment on the other side of the city, the elf turned to face them and said, “As for you, Karrn…what are you doing with my daughter?”

* * *

_Thaliost, Southern Quarter_

Thinking quickly, Catra kicked the first soldier down the stairs, slamming him into the rest.

“Come on!” she snapped at the others. “Get going!”

“Scorpia, darling,” came Double Trouble’s voice from the upstairs room, “don’t get me wrong, you have an excellent physique, and your strength has come in very handy-”

“Push harder and talk faster!” Catra snarled up at them.

There was a crunching sound, and then Double Trouble said, “Well, that’s one way of doing it. Come on, kitten!”

As the guards started to surge forward, Catra leaped into the room. The window had been ripped loose, apparently to allow enough space for Scorpia to exit; she could see her allies hurrying across the rooftop next door.

* * *

_Thaliost, Eastern Quarter_

Anjhaela flung open the door and ushered the group into the rooms. She had money, definitely; this was far from the low-rent lodgings at the Gold Dragon inns they had been relying on. The halfling behind the counter had seemed overjoyed at this; between the occupation and the rise to power of the Pure Flame cult, Adora suspected that the noble suite wasn’t getting much use nowadays.

The light that shimmered from crystals set into the walls was a gentle gold, the colour of a sun just beginning to set, glinting off the ornamentation – and there was so much ornamentation. The far wall was dominated by an enormous window; it was dusk, and the moons were rising over Scions Sound.

“You mean we could’ve been, like, staying in these all along?” said Mermista, her tone flat as parchment. “We’ve slept in three gutters since we started working together.”

“Just because my mom has money doesn’t mean I can just access it whenever I want.” Glimmer blinked. “Besides, the first gutter was your idea.”

“Whatever,” said Mermista, looking awkward. “I don’t actually like this kind of stuff anyway.”

“So you don’t really have much to complain about, do you?”

“Guys,” said Bow, in a warning tone, “I think maybe Lady Anjhaela wants to talk to us.”

“Not you, Bow,” said Anjhaela, and turned to glare at Adora. “Speak, child. Who are you, and what are you doing with my daughter?”

“Mom, leave her alone-”

“Later, Glimmer,” said Anjhaela, as her eyes burned holes in Adora.

Adora took a deep breath. “My name is Adora, and I’m from Atur. I met Glimmer and Bow in Regalport; we ran into Perfuma and Mermista there not long afterwards, and decided to work together.”

“Liar.”

Adora knew her confusion was written on her face as she said, “What? Every word of that was true-”

Anjhaela’s hand flashed out, almost too fast for Adora’s eye to follow; it looked almost skeletal as she took hold of the armour on her left arm and tore it open, revealing that which Adora had most wanted to conceal.

“A lie of omission is still a lie,” said Anjhaela in a voice like ice, as the emerald claw tattooed on Adora’s arm stood, revealed in the magical golden light that suffused the room. “Look upon the true origin of your friend.”

Mermista’s cultivated expression of indifference slipped, shoved out of the way by obvious rage, and Perfuma also seemed taken aback. Bow, who had known all along, was keeping his poker face much more effectively.

“Well, yeah, I knew that,” said Glimmer casually.

Mermista rounded on her and spat, “You knew about this and never told me?!”

“I wasn’t going to say _hey, this is Adora, she just quit a terrorist cult_ , Mermista! If you had a secret, you wouldn’t want me blabbing it in front of random people!”

“I guess I can understand – _wait._ ” The golden light reflected in Mermista’s eyes seemed less like the onset of dusk and more like the flames of a burning boat. “Hullbreak.”

Adora didn’t say anything. Hullbreak had been a residential district in Regalport. Parts of it still were.

“We, like, met after fighting that zombie attack,” said Mermista, in the tone of an inquisitive outlining why a suspect’s alibi was false. “It seemed, y’know, weird that a bunch of zombies would just kinda try to attack random houses. It wasn’t a coincidence, was it.” That was _phrased_ like a question but it definitely wasn’t one. “It was the Emerald Claw.”

Adora’s voice was very small as she said, “Yes.”

Mermista’s fist lashed out into Adora’s jawline, hurling her from her seat. The dark-skinned girl rose and stomped out of the room; it felt like she left thunderclouds in her wake.

“I want the full story,” said Anjhaela, her voice as cold as death.

“I would also appreciate it,” said Perfuma firmly. “Adora, you have always seemed honourable, but…”

“Okay,” said Adora, taking a deep breath. “Here’s how I left the Claw.”

* * *

_Thaliost, Southern Quarter_

Catra’s speed wasn’t helping; their pursuers were catching up.

The official guard had fallen behind, at least, but the Thrane occupation could call upon a lot of other crap for her to deal with: Thrane’s militia levies had been at least as big a threat to Karrnathi forces during the war as its blessed cavalry, and the Aundairian collaborators were Pure Flame zealots who were, if anything, more intense about it.

Now _that_ called up memories of Adora’s blade blazing with silver fire. That one felt like trying to cage a thunderbolt in her guts.

The leader of the zealots hurled herself at Catra in an obvious tackle attempt. Catra’s free hand slashed through the air, trying to use her claws as a weapon-

The air filled with a smell of ozone, and the attacker stumbled backwards, sparks cascading off her now-ruined face – in the same way that they were cascading from Catra’s hand.

_The icy grip of Shadow Weaver’s hand closed on her wrist, and suffering followed, like every muscle in her body spasmed at once. The only sensations in the world were pain and the scent of ozone._

Catra shook off the memories and fled.

* * *

_Regalport_

Adora stepped around a building crafted from the bow of a ship – one of many in this part of Regalport. She wasn’t overly fond of how the city was built; the southern two-thirds of the city was acceptable, with its honest, durable stonework, like what she was used to in Karrnath, but the sprawling mess of wooden structures that made up much of the north, jutting out into the ocean, gave her an uneasy feeling. She could handle a ship, but not one that had been broken down for parts and spread over two buildings, for some reason.

And it didn’t help that the clumsily assembled wood under her feet creaked constantly, and they were trying to move quietly.

“Are you trying to get us caught, Adora?” hissed Catra. The Emerald Claw helmet covered the right side of their face “You’re creaking like Shadow Weaver’s bones.”

“You know I’ve never been as sneaky as you, Catra!” Adora hauled back her temper. “Make sure nobody interrupts us; we’re nearly at the objective.”

A few faint thumps in the darkness later, Catra stuck her head back into the circle of scowled at her and said, “We’re clear. Get on with it.”

Adora opened her pack and took out the cargo.

This was magical, in some way. Adora didn’t know much about magic – she was Combat, Catra was Stealth – but she could definitely recognise it when she saw it, and this was definitely magical in origin. It appeared, at first, to be a box crafted from bones of black iron; when Adora put it at the point Shadow Weaver had identified, it unfolded like a flower, metal scraping against metal.

When the structure had finished unfolding, Adora shuddered, just a little bit. It looked like a cross between a dead spider and a black iron skeleton, set with fragments of deep pink stone; Adora was pretty sure, based on her training, that they were dragonshards.

As she watched, the dragonshards started to shine, a red light gradually suffusing the glow like blood dripping into a glass.

“Adora!” Catra grabbed her arm and pulled. “Come on!”

Before Adora could really get moving, though, she heard a dripping, rotten growl, and the splash of water from under the rickety boards. She looked through a gap, and a decomposing face glared back at her through milky, sightless eyes.

Burial at sea was a long-standing Lhazaar tradition, after all.

“We can’t go!” she told Catra, unsheathing her sword. “Whatever this thing’s supposed to do, we can’t let these zombies stop it-”

“Are you brain damaged or something?” demanded Catra. “We unfold a magical skull box, zombies start turning up – and you think that’s a coincidence? The zombies are being _called_ by the device! Now let’s get going!”

“ _What?_ ” Adora took a few moments to process that. “But what about the people?”

“Sacrificed for the good of Karrnath,” Catra said mock-nobly. “Can’t make an omelette without-”

“This isn’t a joke, Catra!”

“No, it’s not. It’s a mission, and it’s one you’re jeopardising-”

“I thought this was going to help Karrnath recover and rebuild somehow. Draw magic out, I don’t know. But this…this is just _wrong._ ”

“I don’t know where you get these ideas, Adora! Of course it’s not wrong! These are our orders!”

“Screw our orders!” A decaying hand reached over the edge, and she severed it. “I’m not letting innocent people die!”

“Fine!” Catra spat back. “Then you’ll stay here with them!”

“Catra-”

But Catra was already gone.

* * *

_Thaliost, Southern Quarter_

The trampling of feet began to die away, and Catra started to breathe again – a mistake, in context.

“We really must figure out some better boltholes next time, darlings,” said Double Trouble coolly. “I hadn’t expected to need to figure out a Hiding in a Culvert Surcharge.” They gestured to Scorpia. “Especially when we barely fit; I’m amazed those guys

“The Claw will be good for it,” muttered Catra, her eyes fixed on her hand. She flexed her fingers, teeth bared, _willing_ the power to flow again.

“Uh? Catra?”

Catra’s nerves frayed another few points, and she snapped, “ _Yes_ , Scorpia?”

“Well, you know, I was just wondering.” The big half-orc wrung her hands. “These guys were after us, and, you know, you were out on the night of the assassination attempt they’re mad about, so, uh, I guess I was wondering…are you a witness to it, and why aren’t we just telling them about it, then?”

Catra suppressed the biggest sigh of her career. It was some problem in the training, she was sure of it. Why Shadow Weaver had always praised Adora’s successes, she couldn’t tell; she was one of the only ones the Claw had raised who’d managed to avoid this tedious self-righteous nonsense.

“Scorpia, I’m trying to _think_ right now, so could you please _shut up-_ ”

She felt a momentary surge of energy, like she’d just chugged an entire cup of hot tal. There was a purple-pink flash of light; she couldn’t see where it came from.

Two seconds of frozen shock later, Scorpia fell on her.

* * *

_Regalport_

Adora drove her sword through one of the waterlogged corpses, then ripped it free in a spray of vile-smelling parts. Spinning on the spot, she thrust-

“Hey!”

The blade met a shimmering barrier with a sound like a cork being removed from a bottle.

The source of the barrier was a girl – Adora’s own age, if Adora was any judge. Her black hair was pulled up into a messy bob, revealing the subtly pointed ears of a Khoravar, and her skin was a dark tan. She was wearing a short blue traveller’s cloak over her purple tunic, the end cut with V-shapes that gave it a feathery outline; a glint of moonlight picked out a badge in the shape of a hawk’s skull, and then a pattern of dots and lines started to glow on the cape – a constellation picked out in glamerweave.

“Hold it right there, Claw,” said a voice from behind the girl in purple, and an orange light flared. The speaker was a dark-skinned man wearing a white jacket over a reinforced leather apron; the tools of an artificer hung from his belt, and the orange light was coming from the glass tip of the alchemical arrow he had just nocked.

Of course, that made sense. She was still wearing her helmet. The helmet that marked her as Emerald Claw.

As one of the people who had done this.

Adora’s hand almost seemed to move by itself as it reached up, tore off her helmet, and hurled it away. There was a distant splash as it fell into the crack between the wooden platforms and disappeared, consigned to the ocean.

“Very clever, Claw,” said the half-elven girl, a ball of fiery light gathering in her hand. “That’s one bit of evidence dealt with. Pity there are still two of us, and one of you-”

With a sound like splintering wood, a decaying, waterlogged hand smashed through the board the Khoravar was standing on and seized her ankle.

Moving on instinct, Adora plunged her blade into the zombie’s wrist, ducking under the alchemical arrow as the archer fired on instinct. The shot slammed into a zombie’s chest, and as the glass head of the missile shattered, the glowing orange liquid inside came ablaze.

The Khoravar girl eyed Adora suspiciously and demanded, “Why did you do that?”

“The Claw deceived me. I didn’t know they were planning this, I swear.” Adora glanced across the district, registering the lurching, waterlogged bodies that were still dragging themselves out of the depths. “There were three devices we were supposed to deliver – black iron set with Eberron shards.”

“They’re Mabaran iron,” said the dark-skinned archer. “With the right magical energy injection, they could bring about something like this. We found one about ten minutes ago; I managed to defuse it.”

“I’ve destroyed another one. Pulled the legs off, smashed it. I was coming after the second…but it looks like you already got to it.” She took a deep breath and said, “I’m going to go after the third.”

“You’ll die,” said the dark-skinned man. “There are a lot of zombies out there, and only one of you. You can’t fight all of them.”

“I have to try!” Adora scrabbled for some of her composure. “This is happening because of me; I have to try and stop it!”

The Khoravar girl apparently came to some sort of decision. “We’ll go with you.”

“No! Get out of here-”

“We’re going to stop the zombies and save the day,” she said firmly. “From the sound of it, taking out the third could stop them, which means we have the same objective. Which means we’re going to keep an eye on you as we go.”

“You can’t-” Adora gave up. “Fine. But be careful, okay? This is my mistake; enough people have died because of it already.”

“We can look after ourselves,” the girl said, in a tone like a knife dipped in honey. “I’m Glimmer, and this is Bow.”

“Adora.”

“Adora,” repeated the girl – _Glimmer_ – with a nod of her head. “Well, if you try anything funny, _Adora_ , we’ll make sure _everyone_ knows who to look for about this.”

* * *

_Thaliost, Southern Quarter_

Scorpia’s eyes fluttered open. “Mgn,” she said coherently. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that you nearly got us caught, idiot,” said Catra. “You just passed out on duty and started snoring. You must’ve been real tired.”

“I don’t think she was, darling,” said Double Trouble. “I definitely saw _something_ magical.”

“Oh, yes, this was _definitely_ magical sleep,” put in Entrapta. “The flash of light, the timing – you don’t just go from full of beans to unconscious in under a second without magic!”

“Oh.” Scorpia shook her head, an instinctive bid to dislodge some of the slumber that still clung to her. “Are we all right?”

“Approximately.” Catra gestured to her sodden cloak. “You knocked us both into the water, though, and it was pretty stagnant in there. Double Trouble, if you would?”

“I’m a mercenary, kitten, not a launderer.”

“You know a spell for cleaning yourself off, though. It ought to work on other people, too.”

The changeling sighed theatrically. “Very well, very well, but I should warn you that you will be charged for every cast.”

* * *

_Regalport_

Perfuma clenched her fist, and a segment of the rickety wooden boards sprang to verdant life, embracing its new career as a thornbush with enthusiasm. Spikes as long as swords jutted from the surface, cutting into the zombies who were struggling to cross it.

“That should hold them for a few moments, at least,” she said, and turned her attention to the wounded man beside her, her training with the Wardens of the Wood coming to the fore as she studied the man’s wounds. “This shouldn’t be mortal. Just make sure to see House Jorasco about it soon.”

There was a loud splash, and then a very human voice from across the now-impassable bridge said, “Great, the way out is covered in spikes.”

“Those definitely weren’t here when we started!”

Perfuma released the magic, and the spikes withered and started to fall into the ocean. “Hurry across! There could be more!”

Three figures sprinted across the now-passable bridge: a tan-skinned half-elf girl in a purple tunic, a dark-skinned man in a white jacket, and a pale, muscular woman with matted blonde hair, her armour covered in vile substances.

“We’ve taken out the things making the zombies,” said the dark-skinned man. “They should run out of animating force before long.”

“This is wonderful news!” Perfuma gestured to her strongpoint: a guardhouse at the end of the rickety wooden bridge, where the guards had apparently been absent or dragged off. “I have been looking after these people and making sure the zombies could not cross.”

“Nicely done,” said the half-elf. “We’re just gonna…go get Adora here cleaned up and find her some new clothes. I’m pretty much spent when it comes to magic, and Bow’s out of ammo. Think you can hold off the last few?”

“With pleasure!”

The girl nodded. “Good to know, Perfuma. We might catch up with you once we’ve taken care of what we need to.” She bundled the ooze-dripping human with the blonde hair aside and started to frogmarch her down the alley.

Perfuma didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.

_“Why do I need new clothes?”_

_“Because when they wash you off, and see an Emerald Claw uniform, you’ll get in trouble. We need to outfit you with something else. Ever considered white? How about red?”_

_“I like both?”_

* * *

_Thaliost, Eastern Quarter_

Anjhaela’s eyes played over Adora’s face like a predator watching its prey. Finally, she said, “And that’s the truth?”

“Every word of it.” Adora sighed. “I should have known people would find out eventually.”

“I can vouch for her, Mom, and so can Bow!” threw in Glimmer. “Everything she said that we were there for is true – and if she wanted to hurt us, she’s had months to do it!”

“It was very reckless of you to trust her after fighting at her side for less than an hour, Glimmer,” said Anjhaela sternly.

“She saved my life three times in that hour, Mom!” 

After a few moments, Anjhaela simply said, “Leave.”

“But Mom-”

“ _Leave._ ” She didn’t so much sound angry as just put enough force into it that Adora felt her legs instinctively lifting her from the seat; Bow and Perfuma were halfway to the door in moments, Glimmer not far behind them. “Go down to the restaurant and eat; I will charge your meals to my tab. Adora…stay, if you would.”

Glimmer slowed and started to turn, as if to stay behind with Adora, but Anjhaela transfixed her with a glare. “I will not harm her, Glimmer, but I would speak to her _alone_.”

Glimmer met Anjhaela’s eyes, and managed to hold them for nearly thirty seconds before reluctantly backing down. “Okay. But she’d better be _safe_ , you hear?”

“I swear by the Undying, my daughter.”

The door slammed, shaking some droplets of sweat from Adora’s forehead. She hadn’t sweated like this when fighting undead in Vurgenslye, that was for sure.

“Join me at the window, child.” Adora scurried over, and after a long, awkward silence, Anjhaela said, “I have dwelt among you for seven hundred years, Adora. Do you know what I have seen?”

“Um.” Adora blinked dully, and eventually managed, “Everything?”

“Not quite…but close.” Anjhaela gave a small, tight smile. “I have seen generations of humans come and go…and I have seen the patterns among them. I have seen people like Bow, like Mermista, like Perfuma…and like you.”

“Me?”

“Many years ago, long before you were born…I knew a woman named Mara, a knight from Shadukar. She fought for a cause she believed to be just, but learned that her most trusted advisor was a powerful fiend, deceiving her into unleashing a fiend of tremendous power. Mortified at what she had been fooled into doing, she left on a voyage to the Demon Wastes, seeking to earn her atonement battling the fiends there. She never returned.”

“Are you saying that I should-”

“ _No._ ” Anjhaela’s voice had the weight of centuries behind it. “I think you should do what _you choose_. When you were confronted with the choice between what you knew, and harm to innocents, you chose to do the right thing. Besides…” She smiled slightly. “I can tell my daughter likes you, and while she is young and reckless, Glimmer has a keen mind and a strong heart. She has chosen to trust you, and I believe she has chosen well.”

“I don’t understand. Ten minutes ago, you looked about ready to flay me. Now you’re giving me advice?”

“I have spent centuries learning to read people, Adora. I have no question about your sincerity.” Her smile expanded. “Your friend Mermista is waiting on the balcony two floors down. She may be willing to hear you out now.”

“Thank you.” A thought occurred. “I don’t know if Glimmer told you, but I need to learn about the Silver Flame-”

“I will give you a letter of identification in the morning, child; I respect the Flame, but an old student in Flamekeep is a scholar of it, and he will provide you with more assistance than I could.”

“Thanks!”

“Oh, and Adora?” Death glinted in Anjhaela’s eyes. “If you do anything to hurt my daughter, I will ensure you pay an appropriate price.”

“If I ever do anything to hurt Glimmer, I’ll deserve it.”

“Good answer, Adora.” Anjhaela nodded. “Go and make peace with your friend. Glimmer has likely already ordered you a meal.”

* * *

_Outside Thaliost_

“Ah, child,” oozed Shadow Weaver, looming over her remaining protégé. “Your assassination bid was a success, I see; Dariznu’s position trembling, Thrane on the offensive, Aundair silent. A pity your escape was not better orchestrated; you could have completed another mission far sooner.

“I found something while we were trying to escape, at least.” Catra took a deep breath. “I think I did magic.”

After a few moments, Shadow Weaver reached out and gently touched Catra’s head. Those fingers were still cold, extremely so, but there was something else there that Catra hadn’t noticed before – a faint feeling of _fatigue_ , like the commander’s touch was sucking away her energy. “You have been stressed and fatigued, child, and that plays tricks on the mind. You have never showed any harmony with the Ring of Siberys; magic is not among your skills.”

“I did it,” Catra said defiantly.  
“Then show me.”

Concentrating extremely hard, Catra lashed out at her –

“Nothing.” Shadow Weaver batted the strike aside. “You are…somewhat skilled at infiltration and subterfuge, Catra. Why hunger for arcane power when your true gifts lie elsewhere?”

“My mistake,” said Catra, her mind racing at a thousand miles an hour under her blank expression. She felt…muted, somehow, like Shadow Weaver’s accursed touch had drained something from her…

* * *

_Thaliost, Eastern Quarter_

Mermista was sullenly looking out at Scions Sound when Adora stepped onto the balcony. It was an extension of the restaurant, but the muted revelry inside got more so as Adora drew near Mermista; none of the diners apparently wanted to eat outside tonight.

They stood in silence for a few moments, and then Mermista spoke, her eyes still fixed on the distant shape of the island of Thronehold.

“One of my teachers from when I was a kid lived in Hullbreak.” There was still a little anger in her voice, a little tension in her muscles, but she didn’t seem motivated to start swinging again. “I looked for her during the fighting, but…she didn’t make it out.”

“I swear I didn’t know what they were planning, Mermista. They didn’t tell me I was supposed to kill innocents! They just gave me a mission that seemed harmless. I had no way to know what Shadow Weaver was doing.”

Turning, Mermista glared at her and said, “You’re not gonna tell me that you’re gonna make it right, are you?”

“How could I make it right, Mermista? I can’t undo the damage I helped them cause.” Adora took a deep breath and continued, “But I won’t let them do it again. I’ll bring down the entire Claw, if I can.”

Mermista’s eyes felt like they were tearing Adora into strips. Finally, she said, “Don’t think this means I, like, forgive you for what you did. But…” A faint, grim smile spread over her features. “I suppose I can give you a chance to earn it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” said Mermista grudgingly. “I’ve got my own secrets; they’re just, like, cool, dramatic secrets.”

“Like what?”

“You really think I’m gonna tell you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Anjhaela is a Court aasimar cleric, just as a data point.
> 
> Was this entirely contrived because I wanted her to have actually met Tira Miron? Yes. But I think it works.
> 
> (I have an entire backstory on how that came about, but I don't really want to put it in here; I'll include it if it ever becomes relevant.)


End file.
